


A Jorney

by Salty_Heichou



Category: Knights - Fandom, Original Work, Steampunk - Fandom
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, I may add to it but no promises, I’m not sure if i’ll add to this, Rated Mature for blood and injury, it’s just a snippet for now, slight - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-03
Updated: 2019-07-03
Packaged: 2020-06-03 14:37:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19466053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Salty_Heichou/pseuds/Salty_Heichou
Summary: Sometimes it takes encouragement to keep going, to push past the pain.





	A Jorney

His steps staggered in the snow, the burning pain of his back and shoulders ever present in his mind. His legs went weak, and as he fell to his knees he thrust his sword downward into the snow to catch himself. Refusing to fall on his face, because he knew if he laid down completely, he wouldn’t rise again.

He rested his forearms on the hilt of his sword, the bars of the hilt a decent place to rest for the moment. But oh, how he was so tempted to just give up. To just collapse in the snow, give into the pain of his wounds and slip into unconsciousness. Though as he thought over the temptation he heard a voice in his ear, a soft but urgent whisper.

“Look behind you. Look! Look!”

Confused, but he obeyed the voice. Slowly turning his head to gaze behind him, ignoring the burn of the arrow in his shoulder.

“See! See! Look at how far you’ve come.”

He thought about it, he couldn’t even see a slight silhouette of the city any more, just a vast snowy land that seemed to go on for miles. He has come far, hasn’t he.

“Now look! Look in front of you! What do you see?”

The voice spoke again and he obeyed, his head feeling so heavy as he gazed back ahead of himself. There, so close, he could make out a large city with pointed towers. It almost looked like black mountains of it wasn’t for the small lights and occasional neon sign. 

“See! You’re so close. Get up! Get up! You’re so close! Get up!”

The voice was persistent, encouraging at best, and a shaky breath rippled through his rib cage as he slowly dragged his feet up underneath him. His arms trembled as he pressed his weight on the hilt of the sword, unable to bite back the whine of pain that shot through his back and shoulders. But it wasn’t long before he was standing again on wobbling legs, and with a small amount of effort he pulled his sword from the bloodied snow, looking ahead at the mountain like city.

“That’s it. Just one step in front of the other. Go on! Just a little further!”

He obeyed the voice, one wobbling foot in front of the other. Slowly trudging through the snow, the scrape of his sword sliding along the ground beside him. To weak to hold it up anymore, but not so weak to give up. Not yet. 

“You’re so close! Come on! Just a little more!”

The voice called, cheerful and hopeful, and he felt that hope seep into him when he saw the front gates of the city. Black iron gates wide open, waiting like open arms to catch him. His steps quickened, he grit his teeth against the pain and he broke into a weak jog. One quick step after the other, his legs ached and he nearly stumbled forward several times. But he wasn’t stopping. He kept going forward, further and further until he finally jogged past those gates.

He had made it, and he fell to his knees in exhaustion. His sword clattered against the stone ground beside him, but he didn’t care as he sat back and rested his hands on his thighs. Taking a moment to catch his breath, gritting his teeth in a soft whine against the pain.

“See. I knew you could make it. Hello, and welcome.”

He looked up at the sound of that voice again, but much clearer this time and outside of his head. He saw someone in thick wool robes, white like the snowy plains he had just come across. Their face hidden by a sleek porcelain mask, shaped almost like the face of a goat but with no ears or horns. 

“Shh don’t speak. Rest. You can rest now. I will look after you. It’s okay. Rest, rest...”

They spoke softly and brought their hand down to caress the cheek of his own mask, and had he had the strength he would of pulled away. But instead he felt a heavy wave of exhaustion over take him, feeling the darkness creep into his vision. He was to weak to fight it this time, feeling his head lull to the side. The weight of his armor, the arrows that pierced his back and shoulders had all become to much, and as he slipped into unconsciousness he felt large, warm arms carefully embrace him. In that small moment he felt safe, warm, and he willingly let himself black out.


End file.
